I'm pretty sure I sent this alr and idk if you saw it so 💔
but hear me out.. puppy!reader and rafe going on a roadtrip and puppy mistakingly buys aphrodisiac gummies thinking they're just a sweet treat. then she starts getting all squirmy in the car and rafe is like "what the heck is wrong with you " and puppy is SOAKED.. like I'm talking juices down to her ankles soaked, shes ready to hump anything she comes to contact with. and as they're like 5 mins away from home puppy just makes rafe pull over bc she cant wait any longer she needs that DICK.
A SWEET MISTAKE ⋆˚ʚɞ
rafe cameron x puppy!reader
WARNINGS: explicit sexual content, power imbalance, public sexual behavior, accidental consumption of aphrodisiacs, intense arousal, degradation, humiliation, manipulation, rough sex, emotional distress, drug use mention.
WORD COUNT: 1,842
the highway’s a blur of asphalt and sunset, rafe’s truck roaring along with some shitty country song he’s got cranked up, the kind that makes you wanna gag. you’re slouched in the passenger seat, bare feet on the dash, toes tapping out of boredom more than rhythm. your sundress is bunched up around your thighs, the warm july air blasting through the open windows, tangling your hair into a mess you don’t bother fixing. you’re restless, buzzing with that needy energy you always have around him, stealing glances at his sharp jawline, the way his biceps flex under his faded t-shirt as he grips the wheel. three days on this road trip—dive bars, greasy burgers, motel rooms where you’ve been climbing all over him, desperate for his attention. rafe cameron’s got you hooked, and you’re not even sorry about it.
you’re chewing on gummy bears you snagged at the last gas station, some “extra special treat” in a shiny bag with curly letters. you’d begged rafe to let you run in while he was pumping gas, flashing him that pout he pretends to hate. he’d been leaning against the truck, all cocky and pissed-off charm, his sunglasses pushed up as he tossed you a crumpled ten. “don’t take all damn day,” he’d barked, but you saw the way his eyes lingered on your ass as you skipped off. now you’re popping gummies one after another, the taste sharp and weirdly intense, but you’re too busy chirping at him to care. “rafe, this music’s straight-up torture. can we play something that doesn’t make me wanna jump out the window?”
he snorts, his hand sliding to your thigh, fingers digging in hard enough to make you squirm. “talk that shit, and i’ll tie you to the roof rack,” he says, his voice low, that dangerous drawl that’s half-threat, half-promise. rafe’s like that—king of the kooks, all swagger and menace, the kind of guy who’d start a brawl over a spilled drink then laugh about it later. he’s got that rich-boy edge, the kind that comes from growing up untouchable, but there’s something darker underneath, something raw and broken from ward’s constant bullshit. with you, he’s possessive as hell, always one step away from losing it, but you love the way he makes you feel—like you’re his whole world, even if he’s gotta make you beg for it.
then it hits. a hot, heavy wave rolls through you, starting in your gut and spreading like wildfire. your skin’s too tight, your dress scratching like it’s made of thorns. you shift, frowning, trying to shake it off, but there’s this ache, this throbbing, desperate need between your legs that’s got your heart racing. you press your thighs together, but it’s no use—you’re soaked, your panties sticking to you, slickness dripping down your thighs, pooling on the seat, all the way to your ankles. it’s insane, like your body’s turned against you, and you’re starting to freak out. “rafe,” you mumble, voice shaky, “something’s wrong. i feel… weird.”
he glances over, his blue eyes narrowing, that familiar scowl creasing his face. “the fuck you mean, ‘weird’?” he snaps, already annoyed, like you’re some kid who’s spilled juice on his couch. “you’re bouncin’ around like a damn pogue on a bender. what’s your deal?” he’s got that rafe edge—short fuse, always ready to bite, especially when he’s been snorting lines or dealing with his dad’s crap, though you haven’t seen him high this trip. still, you’re squirming, and he’s not having it.
you whimper, tugging at your dress, the fabric clinging to your skin like it’s mocking you. “i don’t know,” you say, voice small, almost crying. “i ate those gummies, and now i’m…” you can’t finish, too embarrassed, but the way you’re shifting, your legs pressed tight, says enough. you shove the gummy bag at him, hands shaking. he snatches it, squinting at the label in the dying light, and his face twists—first disbelief, then a sharp, barking laugh that makes you flinch.
“you fuckin’ kiddin’ me?” he says, tossing the bag to the back like it’s trash. “aphrodisiac gummies? you didn’t read the damn label, did you? jesus, you’re so fuckin’ clueless sometimes.” his voice is mean, cutting, that classic rafe cruelty that stings like a slap, but there’s a glint in his eyes, like he’s getting off on your desperation. he’s always been like this—loves having you at his mercy, loves watching you squirm under his control. “what, you thought ‘extra special treat’ meant sugar and rainbows?”
tears spill over, your cheeks burning with shame. “i didn’t know!” you wail, voice breaking as you cover your face, but your body’s betraying you, the ache so intense you’re practically grinding against the seat. you’re dripping, a slick, humiliating mess, and all you can think about is rafe—his hands, his mouth, the way he’d feel if you could just get him inside you. “rafe, please,” you say, grabbing his arm, nails digging in. “i can’t wait, i need you now.”
he swerves the truck, muttering a string of curses, his jaw tight like he’s ready to lose it. “you’re a goddamn disaster,” he says, but his voice is thicker now, and you can see the way his jeans are straining, the way his knuckles whiten on the wheel. rafe’s a mess of contradictions—pissed off and turned on, mean as hell but hooked on you, the only one who gets under his skin like this. “we’re five minutes from home, you can’t hold it together?” he’s practically yelling, but you’re too far gone, your hands fumbling at his belt, desperate to get him free.
“pull over,” you beg, sobbing now, your voice raw and pathetic. “rafe, i can’t, i need you, please, please.” you’re climbing over the console, your dress hiked up, not giving a damn how wrecked you look, slickness running down your legs like you’re falling apart. you need him, need him to make this stop, to take control like he always does.
he lets out a low, pissed-off groan, but he’s already scanning the road, his jaw so tight it looks like it might crack. “fuckin’ fine,” he mutters, jerking the wheel to pull into a deserted rest stop, gravel crunching under the tires as the truck skids to a stop. you don’t wait, scrambling into his lap, your hands frantic as you tug at his belt, his zipper, anything to get to him. you’re whining, tears and snot mixing on your face, but you’re too desperate to care, your body screaming for relief.
“slow the fuck down,” he snaps, grabbing your wrists hard enough to bruise, but you’re past reason, grinding against his thigh, the friction making you moan even though it’s not enough. “you’re actin’ like a damn whore,” he says, his voice dripping with that rafe venom, the kind he uses when he’s spiraling, when he’s one bad day away from punching a wall. but his hands are on you, yanking your dress down to bare your chest, his fingers rough as they pinch and twist, making you gasp. “all this ‘cause you couldn’t keep your hands off some sketchy-ass gummies? you’re gonna pay for this.”
“i’m sorry,” you choke out, but it’s barely coherent, your hips rocking against him as you try to get closer, to make the ache stop. he’s hard—you can feel it through his jeans—and it’s driving you insane, your hands clawing at him, needing more. “i didn’t mean to, rafe, i swear, just—please, i need you.”
he laughs, low and cruel, but his eyes are dark, burning with something that’s not just anger. he shoves your panties aside, his fingers finding how soaked you are, and he lets out a rough, “fuck, you’re a mess.” it’s not a compliment—it’s rafe, mocking you, loving how pathetic you look. his fingers slide inside, hard and fast, and you cry out, your body arching into his touch. “what, you think you can just climb all over me ‘cause you’re horny as shit? you’re gonna learn some fuckin’ restraint.”
you nod, tears streaming down your face, but you’re too lost in the feeling, your body shaking as the pleasure hits you hard. “yes, rafe, please,” you babble, not even sure what you’re saying, just needing him to keep going, to take over. he’s not gentle, his fingers curling inside you, his other hand yanking your hair back to make you look at him. “such a needy little slut,” he growls, but there’s a smirk now, like he’s in his element, king of the kooks owning you completely. “you’re lucky i don’t leave you like this, beggin’ on the side of the road.”
you’re sobbing his name, grinding against his hand, when he pulls his fingers out, and you whine, loud and desperate. “no, please, don’t stop,” you beg, but he’s already undoing his jeans, freeing himself, and you’re too needy to wait. you sink down onto him, taking him in one rough thrust that makes you scream, the stretch and fullness overwhelming. he groans, his hands bruising on your hips as he sets a brutal pace, the truck rocking with the force of it. “fuck, you’re tight,” he mutters, his voice raw, his eyes locked on where you’re joined. “all this ‘cause you fucked up. you’re gonna be more careful, yeah?”
you nod, tears streaming, too overwhelmed to speak, your body shaking as you ride him, the pleasure crashing over you like a storm. he’s rafe—mean, controlling, the kind of guy who’d burn the world down for you but make you cry for it first, and you’re addicted to it, to the way he makes you feel like you’re everything and nothing all at once. when you come, it’s like the world splits open, your vision blurring as you sob his name, collapsing against his chest.
he’s not far behind, his grip tightening as he finishes with a low, “fuck,” his breath hot against your neck. for a moment, you just stay there, panting, your body still trembling, his hands still possessive on your hips. he pulls back, his usual razor-sharp edge dulled just a bit as he looks at you, all flushed and wrecked. “you’re a fuckin’ disaster,” he says, but there’s a grin, that rare rafe smile that’s half-cocky, half-something softer. he wipes a tear from your cheek with his thumb, rough but careful. “gonna clean this damn seat when we get home, you hear me? my truck’s not a goddamn swamp.”
he shifts you off his lap, gentle for once, pulling you against his side. you curl up there, head on his shoulder, still shaky but warm, safe in his orbit. “let’s get you home,” he says, quieter now, starting the truck, his hand settling on your thigh, heavy and grounding. “gonna get you cleaned up, let you crash. no more grabbin’ shit without me checkin’ first, got it?” you nod, exhausted but content, your body pressed against his as the truck rolls down the road, the ache finally fading, his presence all you need to feel whole.
